


Bucky Barnes' Birthday: 1934

by dottieapple, orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Becca Barnes Knows Whats Up, Birthday Fluff, Boys Kissing, Bucky Barnes birthday, Clueless Boys Pining Secretly, First Kiss, M/M, Mother Hen Bucky Barnes, Name-Calling, Original Fan Art, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Teenage Bucky Barnes, Teenage Steve Rogers, minimal swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23422513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottieapple/pseuds/dottieapple, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Written about Bucky Barnes' birthday, 1934, for Bucky Barnes' birthday, 2020: in which Becca Barnes is an analogue for the fandom because she sees it before Steve and Bucky. It all starts with a hand-drawn birthday card, some cake, and getting stuck on a fire escape.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 40
Kudos: 245





	Bucky Barnes' Birthday: 1934

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Bucky Barnes' Birthday: 1934](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29073633) by [WTF Infinity Starbucks 2021 (InfinityStucky)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfinityStucky/pseuds/WTF%20Infinity%20Starbucks%202021)



> Bucky Barnes is turning 17. Steve Rogers is 15, soon to be 16. Becca Barnes, at least in my mind, is 14, maybe almost 15? She's the smart-ass sister type. 
> 
> Cute, kissy teenage romance feelings will ensue. 
> 
> Major thanks go to @noella (on twitter) for the quick beta, and of course, to [em_dibujsb](https://twitter.com/em_dibujsb), whom I commissioned to bring Steve's card to life. It looks amazing!
> 
> I'll leave it up to you to [click now for the art](https://twitter.com/em_dibujsb/status/1245196820587974661), or go see it at the end of the fic so you don't feel spoiled!

_**1934** _

“I can’t stand it anymore!” Becca cried, flopping dramatically against the doorframe to the bathroom. 

Bucky snorted but continued to scrutinize his own reflection in the smudged mirror. He reached for his comb. “Whatcha say, Fay Wray?” He unscrewed the small tin of Byrlcreem.

“I. Cannot. Stand it,” Becca grumbled, “anymore, James Barnes.” Bucky began to whistle and arrange his hair to curl _just so_ at the front. “Are you even listening to me?”

“You’re being more dramatic than Steven Grant Rogers himself, so, not really.” Bucky dipped his fingers into the tin of pomade and began his strategic application. 

“I’m no fool, big brother,” Becca huffed. “You don’t have a date tonight, but Steve is coming by,” she elongated the ‘e’ in Steve for much longer than necessary, “and now you’re hogging the mirror to preen.”. 

“It’s my birthday, Becks. You only turn seventeen once,” Bucky pointed out, hoping to sound logical enough to avoid any more conversation on the matter, hoping his nosy younger sister would bug off already. “Is it wrong to want to look nice for a special day?”

“Pride is a sin, you peacock.” Becca stuck out her tongue. 

“I’ll remember that the next time you’re taking an hour to paint your face because Robbie McDaniel is supposed to be at the dance hall,” Bucky teased.  
  
“Rebecca! Leave your brother alone,” Winnie Barnes admonished from the kitchen. “If he wants to dress up for his birthday, he can.”

Becca rolled her eyes and stomped off to her room. 

Bucky picked up his comb, attempting to tame the unruly sides of his hair. He’d finally worked the front into place, soft curls that framed his forehead perfectly. He flashed himself a smile and decided he finally looked all right. He glanced at his watch: _5:25pm._ Winnie called Becca to set the table, and Becca shuffled past the bathroom, groaning. Bucky heard Winnie talking softly to Becca, saying something like _it’s his birthday, you’ll have a special day on your birthday too._

The scent of Winnie’s famous wacky-cake filled the apartment with sweet, chocolaty goodness. Bucky thought his ma’s cake was the best in all of Brooklyn. He didn’t know how she managed to make a dessert so delicious on a Depression budget, but she did. There was a sharp knock at the door, and Bucky bounced on the balls of his feet. He adjusted his suspenders, and the door opened.  
  
“Hello, Steven!” Winnie called out. “We’re glad you could make it.”

Steve stepped into the apartment. It wasn’t the first time Bucky had noticed that week that Steve’s hair was getting long in the front. Steve reached with his long fingers to push some gold strands out of his eye. “Hi, Mrs. Barnes,” Steve said, his voice a little ragged like he’d hurried and his lungs were tired. He turned his blue eyes upward to focus on Bucky. “Hey, Buck. Happy birthday.” 

Bucky wondered if it would be odd to hug Steve hello. After all, they’d just seen each other at school earlier in the day. 

Suddenly, Becca twirled past Bucky, bumping her hip against him. “If it isn’t the Golden Boy,” she practically sang over her shoulder as she disappeared into the kitchen again. 

Steve frowned. “What’s she mean, Buck?” He stepped closer. Steve’s hearing had never been great, so he always got close to Bucky when Bucky needed to whisper.

“Becca has a bee in her bonnet about me, I think,” Bucky said softly. “She is being so dramatic right now, she could out-act Gary Cooper. C’mon, let’s relax until the cake is ready.” 

Becca peeked around the icebox and made a face at Bucky. Bucky sneered right back. Steve sat quietly, wringing his hands, cracking his knuckles. A small paper bag sat between the two boys along the line of the couch cushions. Bucky turned to look at Steve. “Thanks for coming over. It’s not really my birthday until we celebrate, y’know?” He scrubbed a hand at the back of his neck. 

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “I’m sorry my ma had to work and miss the cake.” 

“We can wrap some up for her.” Bucky chuckled softly at nothing in particular. He realized that his upper arm touched Steve’s shoulder, so he scooted ever-so-slightly away. Then his thigh bumped up against the bag. “What’s this?”

Steve startled. Bucky never understood how Steve could be next to him but miles away at the same time. “Oh,” Steve shook his head, as if clearing the cobwebs. Was it Bucky’s imagination, or did Steve’s cheeks look rosier tonight than they had at school? “It’s--it’s a present for you, pal. A birthday present. It isn’t much, but I thought--” 

Bucky quickly opened the folded over brown paper to discover a small Hershey bar and a handwritten card inside. It was a simple piece of paper, folded in half. The outside read, in Steve’s rambling printed lettering, _Happy 17th birthday, Bucky--You’re the best jerk I know_. On the inside of the card was a cartoon Steve had obviously spent some time on: it featured Bucky in a soda jerk outfit, complete with a striped apron and a little cap. Bucky’s cartoon self was sliding a root beer float with a cherry on top down a counter toward a girl cartoon with a shapely figure. Some hearts hung over her head and around her side as she looked toward soda-jerk-Bucky. A cartoon version of Steve, in his too-big jacket and short tie, sat beside the cartoon girl with an exasperated expression on his little cartoon face. 

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. This was the best cartoon he’d seen Steve make yet. “Stevie,” he breathed out softly, smiling slow. He felt a little too sappy for the occasion. “This is amazing! Holy cow!”

“Lemme see!” Becca barged into the living room, plopping to the floor in front of the couch. She snatched the note from Bucky’s hand.  
  
“Hey!” he protested. “That’s private! At least, wait--Steve, was that supposed to be private?” Bucky looked to Steve, who shrugged and pressed himself backward into the cushions. 

Becca smiled as she looked at the cartoon. “It’s real cute, Steve. Nice work.” She got up on her knees and scooted closer to Bucky and Steve. Bucky eyed her suspiciously as Becca dropped her voice to a whisper. “James Buchanan Barnes, you’re an idiot.” Before Bucky could open his mouth to say anything, Becca reached a lightning-fast hand to his lips. 

Bucky turned to Steve, as though he would have an explanation, but Steve had busied himself with winding his watch. His face was still red, and a fine sheen of sweat was visible at his temples. Was Steve getting sick again? Because that would be just like him to show up for Bucky’s birthday party while coming down with a fever and saying nothing. 

Becca leaned uncomfortably close between Bucky and Steve, putting a hand on each of their knees. She let out the most exasperated, melodramatic sigh Bucky had ever heard. “You two deserve each other. You’re _both_ idiots.” She patted their knees in time with her words.

Steve and Bucky just stared at her and blinked. 

“Five minutes until cake, kids!” Winnie called from the kitchen. “Becca, go get your little sister from her room please.” 

Becca rose to her feet with one last remark. “I have a right mind to knock your heads together,” she hissed. 

Bucky looked at the cartoon again, really studied it as Steve stood up next. He smoothed his hand over his hair and smiled at Steve. “Is this how you feel when I’m talking to a dame? I really _am_ a jerk. It would be just like you give me some birthday humility.” He clapped Steve on the back, and Steve smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Becca passed Bucky and Steve again, shooting them both the stink-eye. Little Maggie was balanced on her hip, squealing and giggling. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s get you some cake,” Becca said to her small sister, bouncing as they walked into the kitchen. 

Bucky hopped up from the couch and reached a hand to Steve. Steve lifted his arm, as though he considered taking Bucky up on the offer. He didn’t. Steve scrabbled to his feet in his odd way, twisting a bit to the side to compensate for his back pain. Bucky always noticed Steve’s quirks but didn’t bring them up.

Bucky bounded into the kitchen and planted a little kiss on top of Maggie’s head as she kicked her feet in her highchair. “You’re my cutest sister,” he grinned.

“James,” Winnie _tsk_ -ed as Becca said, “Jerk.” Winnie waved her hand toward the chair at the head of their meager table. “The birthday boy gets the seat of honor.” When Steve appeared in the doorway, she smiled warmly at him. “And the birthday boy’s best fella should sit right next to him.” She gestured at the chair closest to Bucky.  
  
“Thanks, Mrs. Barnes,” Steve responded softly, his face going pink. 

“Mom,” Becca said, not quite in protest. She and Winnie exchanged some kind of look. Bucky shrugged at Steve. Maggie slapped her pudgy little hands against the table gleefully. 

Next thing Bucky knew, Winnie was sticking a single candle into the square cake. “It’s not much, but it’ll do,” she said, carefully putting the cake in front of her son. “Make a wish, sweetie.” 

He darted his eyes to Steve, who was transfixed by the chocolate confection. Bucky inhaled and blew out the solitary flame. 

Steve smiled slowly. Bucky would never say, especially with Becca there, but it lit the whole room more than any birthday candle. Steve’s eyes widened with curiosity. “What did you wish for, Buck?”

“Can’t tell you, punk,” Bucky replied, some kind of fizzy feeling rising through his spine as Steve’s knee bumped against his. “If I tell you what I wished for, it won’t come true. You know how this works.” Bucky softly leaned his knee into Steve’s instead of pulling back. Neither of them moved.

Winnie chuckled softly as she pulled the cake toward herself to slice it. Becca flashed a big grin at her. Bucky felt out of the loop but was happy to finally have a huge piece of cake. 

Steve, served just after Bucky, tucked into his slice of cake ravenously. His eyebrows raised, and he gave a satisfied hum. “This is delicious, Mrs. Barnes. I mean, it’s always good, but--”

Steve was cut off by the baby’s whimper. Maggie’s pudgy hand patted insistently at Steve’s reedy arm. “Oh! Hi there, baby girl,” Steve said gently, caught off-guard.

Something about the sweetness under his voice made Bucky’s heart flip-flop. 

Maggie cooed at Steve, holding up one of the squashed chunks of chocolate cake she’d been given. Steve lowered his face toward Maggie’s, as though he could actually conspire with a one-year-old.Bucky admitted to himself that it was cute. Steve whispered to her, loudly. “Did you know it’s your big brother’s birthday? Did you get him something nice?”

Maggie gave a struggling little huff as she reached her cake-dirty hands out to Bucky then smiled, and if the combination of that with Steve being soft didn’t do something to his insides, _well_ ; Bucky hopped out of his chair and ran around the table, scooping up his littlest sister, smacking noisy kisses on her cheeks. She giggled and gave him one back before starting to fuss. He handed Maggie over to his Ma. 

Bucky noticed Steve staring at him again, cheeks rosy. Steve pushed his hair out of his eyes one more time. His fingers lingered at his face a little too long, and Bucky only knew this because he was staring right back, focused intensely on Steve’s every move.

Steve’s eyes went wide all of a sudden, and he quickly grabbed his napkin. He scrubbed furiously at the corners of his mouth. “I better go wash up, Bucky’s looking at me like I got more cake all over my face than the baby.” Steve let out a choked half-laugh and excused himself from the table. Winnie followed suit, taking Maggie back through the apartment to bed.. 

Bucky glanced around the kitchen and settled his attention to Becca. He leaned across the table and whispered, “Do you think Steve looks okay?”

“What?” Becca looked at Bucky like he’d grown a second head, and the edges of her mouth turned down.

“Steve. Does he look, I dunno, sick? His face is all red. He looks like he’s not entirely here. He sure beat hell to use the restroom just now.” 

Becca pushed her chair out from the table.. “He looks like Steve,” she replied, nonchalant.

“Something’s off,” Bucky pondered. “It’d be just like him to come over here even if he’s getting a fever.” Becca frowned, and Bucky continued, “Or maybe he bad-mouthed somebody on the way here and now he’s thinkin’ about throwing fists on the way back. D’ya think I should walk him home?”

Becca sighed, “I think the last thing Steve needs is your henpecking. You could _ask_ him if he’s okay, you know.” 

It was Bucky’s turn to sigh. He got up from the table and reached into his coat pocket for the last cigarette in his pack. “Don’t tell Ma,” Bucky said to Becca, who stuck out her tongue and began to wash dishes. Bucky opened the fire escape window and crawled outside into the cool, damp evening air. He heard the interior door click closed. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted warmly, awkwardly folding himself out of the window onto the fire escape with Bucky. 

Bucky leaned against the railing and tapped ashes down to the sidewalk three stories below. He felt a little queasy to look at the drop, but he knew he wouldn’t be up there for long. “Hey is for horses, punk.” 

Steve scoffed, “Real clever. You’re a regular Algonquin wit there, Dorothy Parker.” He kept his distance from Bucky, careful not to step into his cloud of smoke.

Bucky pulled his card from Steve out of his pocket. He was pleased that he hadn’t wrinkled it too much. A slow smile played at his lips as he admired the drawing once more Bucky adored what Steve had done, perfectly capturing his exasperated expression as Bucky winked at the anonymous girl. Steve sure put up with a lot of his shit, didn’t he? 

He must’ve had quite the dopey look on his face because Steve then cleared his throat, loudly. Bucky looked up to see Steve push his bangs over to the side, once, twice, nearly a third time as the breeze caught them. Steve was chewing on his bottom lip, and when he finally stopped, it was a swollen pink. Bucky flicked his cigarette butt down toward the street and finally acquiesced. “Something botherin’ you, Stevie?”

Steve shook his head a few times, like he’d snapped himself out of a daydream. “Huh?” Steve’s eyes were still a brilliant blue, even in the deep-shaded light of the Brooklyn night. They came to rest on the paper clutched in Bucky’s hand. “I’m right as rain,” Steve answered flatly, with a cursory glance between Bucky’s face and his birthday card. 

The kitchen window suddenly fell closed with a thud. Steve jumped like his skeleton might pop out of his skin. Becca tapped on the glass from the inside, holding up the rickety piece of wood that normally kept the window from sliding shut. She made a dramatic show of trying to lift the window on her own. “Sorry,” she mouthed at Bucky, not looking a bit sorry at all. Bucky knew he could open it from outside--he’d had plenty of practice sneaking back in--but Becca was being such a pain, he relished the idea of sitting outdoors with Steve for some peace and quiet.

Bucky looked across the small platform where Steve leaned on his elbows against the rail. Steve quickly looked down as though he’d been caught doing something wrong. He bit his lip again and picked at his thumbnail. Bucky had had enough and took the two steps needed to close the gap between them. 

He blurted out. “Do you feel okay? Are you gettin’ a fever, pal?” Steve’s face tightened as that little divot Bucky secretly liked appeared between his blonde eyebrows. “Stevie, do you think I don’t like your present? Because I think it’s real swell. Maybe I’ll hang it on my wall, just to remind myself that I can be a--”  
  
“Bucky,” Steve interrupted. His arm darted out, and his disproportionately large hand settled on Bucky’s shoulder. Steve looked up at him, focused more on Bucky’s cheek than his eyes. “Did you really _look_ at the drawing?” 

“O-of course,” Bucky stammered, unsure why Steve was giving him this scrutinizing treatment. He thought he might be developing a deeper understanding of why nobody wanted to partner with Steve for critiques in drawing class. Bucky felt the weight of Steve’s attention, and he had nowhere to escape. He contemplated what he’d done to draw Steve’s ire and checked the window to see if Becca was snooping. She was nowhere to be seen. It was just this small metal platform, no way down, no quick way out, and one skinny little punk scowling up at Bucky’s face like he might punch it. 

“I loved it, Steve,” Bucky tried a more calming tone to his voice, the one he only brought out when Steve was sick enough he might not hear. Steve tilted his head, either confused or insulted. Bucky continued, “I wasn’t lyin’ that it’s real swell. I don’t know how you got our faces so right with just some line drawings, but you’re always good at that kind of stuff.” Steve’s hand still held to Bucky’s shoulder, but its death-grip tenacity began to falter. Maybe he wasn’t going to take a swing at Bucky after all. “Who’s the girl, though?” 

Steve opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. 

“I do like blondes,” Bucky soldiered on, “you know that much. Is it Shirley Abernathy?” He had taken her out a couple of times last year, and afterward Bucky had given Steve a full recap of how soft her thighs felt just above the tops of her stockings. Bucky had been content to just kiss her, but she’d moved his hand, and what an invitation, right? “It’s gotta be Shirley, because she hates root beer, is that the joke?” 

With that, Steve leaned backwards in what looked like a stretch, but he grumbled out a melodramatic _ugh_ , sounding a bit like Becca had earlier. He shoved a hand into his pocket and pulled out the shortest butt of a pencil Bucky had ever laid eyes on. Steve’s other hand left Bucky’s shoulder and grabbed for the card. Bucky let him take it, then was mildly startled as Steve crowded up next to him, crushing their sides together. 

Steve looked up at Bucky then, and Bucky knew this look by heart--Steve’s patented expression just for Bucky Barnes. It was a look that had come into existence about two years ago, when Bucky shot up in height like a magic beanstalk and broadened like a giant shortly thereafter. Steve stayed small, but started calling Bucky things like _big lug_ and _Moose_ and _ya big palooka_. To Bucky, it felt like some sort of fond Vaudeville act they performed together. Steve explained things slowly and patiently because Bucky was now some kind of dimwitted oaf, but it never felt mean. It made Bucky feel warm inside. 

Steve sighed and held out the drawing. “Thing is, Bucky,” Steve explained, “she doesn’t have a face. She’s nobody. You see?”

Bucky squinted at the drawing as though something would pop right out at him, like the figures would change just from Steve trying to explain them. 

“Damn, it’s a good thing you have your looks,” Steve mumbled. 

“Why are you acting so strange?” Bucky blurted out. “Just--just fucking give it to me straight.”

For some reason, this made Steve bark out a laugh. He shook it off quickly, then held the card flat in his hand. “Cover the girl with your thumb.” 

Bucky followed the instruction and continued to blink at the drawing. 

“Do you see now?” Steve’s shoulders sagged as Bucky tipped his head quizzically, like a confused puppy. Bucky swore he could hear the wheeze in Steve’s breathing as he took forever to breathe in and out. He raised his stub of a pencil and touched the point in front of Cartoon Steve’s nose. “Keep her covered, jerk.” Steve began to sketch the lightest of dotted lines across the card. 

Something in Bucky’s guts clenched. His heart skipped at least two beats, he was sure of it. 

The dotted line across the paper made it clear as day. Cartoon Bucky was winking at Cartoon Steve. Their eyes met across the counter. The little hearts hung in the air between _them_. The girl was a prop. A safety measure. 

Bucky’s throat got dry. He swallowed hard. Steve had put his pencil away, leaving Bucky holding the card. Steve had stopped leaning so firmly against Bucky’s side. His stubborn little jaw twitched, and golden strands fell into his eye once more. 

_God, Bucky_ was _an idiot, just like Becca said. A big, dumb oaf. Couldn’t see the forest for the trees._

But he could see his best friend. The only person he deeply cared to impress. The only fella he’d take a punch for. 

Bucky noted that the window hadn’t been opened yet, and though Becca was stooped over the sink, she paid the two of them no mind as she scoured a pot. Now it was his turn to bite his lip. “Steve, I--” Steve looked up then, his face soft with emotion, his eyes shining, almost sad. Bucky gently raised his hand, telegraphing his every move like a bad boxer, and carefully swept Steve’s hair back off his forehead. Under cloudy moonlight, Steve’s face and neck both turned an alluring shade of pink. Every instinct in Bucky’s big dumb body told him to move already. 

He touched Steve’s cheek reverently, if a little awkwardly. Those bones were finer than china, more delicate than most girls’ he’d touched, but Bucky couldn’t say that aloud. Steve made a soft sound, strange and familiar at the same time. His long eyelashes fanned out as his eyes fell closed. “Stevie, I didn’t think you were really-- _y’know_. I mean, do you know? For sure? You’ve only kissed that one girl and you--”

Bucky was caught, an animal in headlights as Steve surged up onto his tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s mouth. It was soft, dry, a little too forceful. It was a perfect Steve Rogers kiss. 

Steve pulled back and away, hands on his narrow hips. “I know. Beyond a doubt, I know.”

Bucky felt a giggle rumble up and out of him. He was pretty sure he was the one blushing this time. He held his arms out, a question. “Then come back here.” 

Steve looked nervously at the closed window, squared his shoulders, and took the surest step forward Bucky had seen him make outside of a schoolyard fight. They framed each other’s faces with their hands, their lips mashing together awkwardly at first, a struggle of who was giving and who was the one to take. Bucky wanted to tell him this wasn’t some kind of altercation, but knew better than to comment. 

Being the more experienced kisser, Bucky darted his tongue out and dared Steve to open his mouth. Steve never said no to a dare. He made a small sound in the back of his throat that Bucky had never heard outside of his dreams. One of Bucky’s hands threaded softly into Steve’s hair, the other smoothed down the knobs of Steve’s backbone and pressed in at the waist.

This was perfect. Amazing. This was the best birthday Bucky thought he could ever have. 

A sharp tapping rang out from the windowpane. Bucky and Steve froze.  
  
 _We’re caught,_ Bucky panicked. _This is it. This is the end of the line._ Steve’s hand, clenching Bucky’s, trembled. 

From the other side of the window: the dazzling grin of a self-satisfied Becca Barnes. She gave them both a big thumbs-up, then pushed the window up like it was nothing.

“I’m off to bed,” she called to them softly. “Ma’s already asleep. Don’t stay up too late.” She beckoned Bucky to the window and smacked a sisterly kiss on his cheek. “Happy birthday, big brother. Love you.” Becca looked directly at Steve, winked, and disappeared inside the apartment. 

A few beats passed, then Bucky and Steve looked at each other and began to laugh. Giddy relief passed through Bucky, but he was almost afraid to look at Steve. As they giggled, they both collapsed against the rails, sliding down to the platform together. 

They sat shoulder to shoulder, chests heaving with new feelings. Steve grabbed Bucky’s broader hand and threaded their fingers together. Bucky tipped his head sideways to rest on top of Steve’s. He knew they couldn’t stay out here all night; it was getting cold. He knew they couldn’t stay like _this_ all night.  
  
As he pressed his lips to Steve’s temple, Bucky couldn’t believe his birthday wish had the audacity to make itself true.

**Author's Note:**

> In this strangest of timelines, isn't it lovely to enjoy some fluff? 
> 
> Here's [that link to @em_dibujsb's amazing art again!](https://twitter.com/em_dibujsb/status/1245196820587974661)
> 
> Thanks for reading, and remember, I live on kudos and comments. 
> 
> STAY SAFE; STAY INDOORS; READ MORE FANFIC.
> 
> xoxo,  
> Dottie


End file.
